


dreams of gold and ink

by orphan_account



Series: its ok [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bollywood, Hickies, Internal Monologue, M/M, Neck Kissing, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 21:08:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15916290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: zayn sings in the shower, louis daydreams





	dreams of gold and ink

Louis woke up to the sound of the shower on in the other room.   
He was sort of stiff. He’d slept weird. His mouth tasted stale.   
Along with running water he hear faint singing. Zayn was singing. Old Bollywood songs. Louis smiled. The words that drifted through the water in a foreign language sounded dreamy as Zayn drawled then out.   
Zayn's favorites were Bollywood movies from the 70’s. Louis had watched a few with him. They were exuberant, flashy, vibrant, lively, but also had a depth to them. Bittersweet romance stories. Colors, music, makeup, costumes, jewelry, henna.   
Actresses with classic old school beauty and ruggedly handsome actors.   
Reds, greens, pinks, and yellows that moved across the screen in the form of sari's in dance numbers. That entranced him. Mesmerized him. The melodic sometimes melancholy music carried him off.   
Golden bangles which chimed together adorned the dancers wrists and ankles. Ornate henna ran up and down the starlets arms and legs.   
He loved how the sounds rolled off Zayn's tongue. Mysterious sounds. Sounds of a far off land. Sounds which were words but Louis didn’t know the meaning of them. It almost felt like a holy occasion to hear Zayn sing in his dialect of Urdu, passed down to him from his father. 

The water stopped. Moments later Zayn exited the bathroom in boxers with a towel around his neck. Still humming the faraway melodies.   
His light brown skin still damp. In this boxers Louis could see all Zayn's tattoos. Arms, legs, chest bore markings in permanent ink. Zayn had more then him. Sometimes Zayn would get really fucked up and get tatted. His tattoos were rarely ever planed. Spur of the moment decisions whilst he was high outta his mind or drunk or both. Hard drugs or soft. 

Their lifestyle allowed for this sort of behavior. It entailed it basically. They were fucking rockstars. Millionaires at 20. 

Zayn was elusive. He was the most private member. But Zayn was Zayn in front of Louis. Just like Louis was Louis in front of Zayn.   
Zayn found comfort in wrapping his arms around Louis slim body.   
He loved the way felt against him. Small, narrow, warm body of his best friend.   
How his arms fit in the crooks of Louis body when he held him. Physically he was very at easy with Louis like he wasn’t with anyone else. They clicked.   
And he knew the feeling was reciprocated. He never had to guess with Louis. They were transparent with each other. They were in this together.   
He wouldn’t touch the other member like that. He wouldn’t hold them. Louis fit nicely with him.   
Zayn left hickies in Louis neck, bruises on Louis neck and throat and across his collar bone. Beautiful reddish, purplish splotches like Zayn had painted them there. Marks made with Zayn's lips and teeth and tongue.   
Louis loved Zayn's art. Zayn's effortlessly cool urban style. His neck now Zayn's canvas.   
Louis would breathe and shudder as Zayn bit and sucked places on his neck. Zayn would kissed the forming spots. 

Louis would look at them in the mirror. The hickies that he wore on his neck. The hickies Zayn made. Management would be pissed. Louis tried halfheartedly to hide them with off colored concealer. Louis didn't care who saw. He liked the marks. Liked how they looked on his skin. 

Zayn ran the towel over his head. Louis yawned and stretched in bed. Not yet wanting to get out. They had to get going early today. Zayn turned on the tv for background noise. The weather forecast. Which was meaningless in hours they’d be in a completely different climate.   
A manager abrasively knocked on the door. Unnecessarily loud.   
“Zayn. Louis. We’re leaving in 20.” 

“Fuck off”, Louis muttered finally getting out of bed. And going into the bathroom to brush his teeth.   
Visions of elaborate dance numbers, bright colors and beautiful warm skinned actors had all disappeared from Louis head like a dream that slips away from you as you wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> zouis 4ever


End file.
